In the Heart of the Jungle
by SkullRising
Summary: Before Jason arrived on Rook Island, pirates dominated over all. This is the story of those who fought against them, who braved the jungle to bring the fight to their oppressors. ACCEPTING OC'S. Rated T for violence, language, etc.
1. Welcome to the Island

**This is sort of an experiment for me. I was reading around the Far Cry section, and I got this idea. Now, I'll accept OC's in this story, but only a certain (undetermined as of yet) number. This starts off before Jason Brody gets to Rook Island. **

**I'm not exactly experienced with first person POV stories, so any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Hell, criticism on anything would be appreciated. Anyway, here we go. **

…**.**

The thing I remember most is just… How fast it all happened. One minute I'm having the time of my life, racing bikes on the beach, and the next thing I know, my best friend is lying in my arms, bleeding from a bullet in his chest. Ben's green shirt was stained red, his eyes wide and wet with tears.

"M-mike…" he choked out, feebly reaching toward me. "H-help me…" I couldn't respond. My head was swimming, I couldn't think straight. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. Then the pirates fired. Bullets whined as they flew over my head, barely missing my blond hair.

I was sweating, panicking. I didn't know what to do. My hands were soaked with blood, and I couldn't tell if the water in my eyes was sweat or tears.

"Help…" Ben begged, his voice fading. A bullet struck my left ear, and I screamed. I clutched at the bloody wound, staining my hands even further. That's when I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped my friend and ran as hard as I could, gripping what was left of my ear as bullets pounded the sand around me.

"_Help me!" _Ben screamed pitifully. His words cut deep, deeper than any wound I've had since. They would haunt me for the rest of my life. Part of me wanted to run back to him, to pick him up in my arms and run into the jungle. But the other part knew that I wouldn't make it ten feet with his extra weight.

And so I ran. I ran as hard and fast as possible, sobbing and bleeding on the dark green undergrowth. I scraped my knee on a branch, bloodying my jeans. Thorns scratched my shirt and arms, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was escape. The pirates shouted swearwords and threats, chasing me through the foliage. I couldn't outrun them, I realized. They knew the terrain, and I didn't. They'd just run me down until I dropped from exhaustion. I didn't want to think about what would happen after that.

"He's almost at the canyon!" a pirate shouted. A canyon. Maybe I could use that to escape. I sped up, my boots trampling the grass.

A minute later, I could see it in the distance. The canyon stretched from the overgrown cliff to the ocean, linked to the vast expanse by a stream of water. It was huge and deep, easily a hundred foot drop. I could see the water at the bottom. I could only hope it was deep enough. The edge came ever closer, and my will faltered.

Could I do this? I'd always been afraid of heights, and this jump was massive. I stopped at the edge, too scared to jump and paralyzed with fear. I desperately looked for a way out, but there was none to be found. Would I make the jump?

A bullet nearly taking off my other ear made the decision for me. Staying on the cliff was not an option. With eyes squeezed shut, I sprinted the last few feet and leaped into the air, holding onto some last desperate hope of survival.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. I was floating rather than falling. For a moment, I felt like a bird. Then reality hit me, and with it came fear as I thought that these might be my final moments. What if the water was only a foot deep? Opening my eyes just a little, I could see the dark blue liquid, but I couldn't tell how far down it went. I said a quick prayer and closed my eyes, holding my breath.

The impact nearly robbed me of oxygen. I felt like I'd been hit by a freight train. I barely managed to keep holding my breath, but I was alive, for now. I paddled weakly until I felt ground under my boots, and made it a couple feet before I collapsed on the sand.

….

It was dark when I woke up. For a moment I didn't open my eyes, hoping it was a dream, that Ben would be smiling when I got up, passing me a Pepsi and ready with a joke. Slowly I eased them open. A man in sunglasses and a green face mask jumped back from my body, his eyes wide behind the lenses.

"Holy shit, he's alive!" I got a better look at him now that he was a distance away. His shirt was bright red, with a faded white skull emblazoned on the front. He quickly swung his AK-47 out from behind his back and aimed it at me. I held up my hands in the classic gesture for, "I surrender!" The pirate jerked his head, and another man came from the other side, carrying a pistol and grinning, displaying his yellow teeth.

"Well what do we have here, huh?" he asked, touching my forehead with the tip of his gun. His breath reeked of smoke and alcohol. "Another fucking tourist? Bet we'd sell you for a nice bunch of cash." He motioned to Sunglasses. "Tie him up. We'll take this kid back to Vaas and see what he's got to say." He took out a communicator from his pocket and spoke into it for a minute, then put it away and nodded to his fellow pirate. "The boys have been told that we've got a fresh one. They'll be waiting at Pirate's Cove."

I began to panic again. Vaas? Who the hell was that? Whoever he was, I was damn sure I didn't want to meet him. My opinion didn't really matter at that point, though, and the pirates tied my hands behind my back and pushed me forward.

I don't really know how long we went like that, walking beside the road with Yellow Teeth's gun at my head and Sunglasses taking the lead. The rope dug into my wrists, and I could feel fresh blood staining the material. My feet ached, my ear burned with pain, and my throat was dry from lack of water.

I was beginning to lose hope when I heard gunfire and Sunglasses went down in front of me. Yellow Teeth freaked out when his buddy was gunned down, and he began to run past me, firing a few rounds from his pistol and screaming, "What the fuck?!"

I didn't think, I just acted. As soon as the pirate was in front of me, I swung my bound arms over my head and over his and pulled back, strangling him with the bloody rope. He struggled for a moment, choking and gasping for air, and then laid still, his body limp.

I was shaking, though from fear or adrenaline I wasn't sure. I looked down at my hands, still bloody from Ben's wound, and the now crimson rope that tied them together. It was frayed badly from use, and soaked in both my blood and the pirate's. I'd killed a man. That thought nearly brought me to my knees. I was in shock, unsure of what to do now. For a second I stood there, just staring down at Yellow Teeth's body.

The plants rustled on the left of the road, and I began to panic again. Frantically I tried to pick up the pirate's pistol, but I couldn't get my bound hands around it. My heart pounded, I could hear it beating in my ears. "Oh God, please don't let me die," I said quietly.

The rustling became louder, and I braced myself for the bullet I was sure was coming. I wouldn't look away, I decided. No, I would stare straight into my murderer's eyes, a last act of defiance before my life went out like a candle.

A man appeared at the side of the road, just outside the jungle. He seemed almost to step out from a tree, suddenly becoming visible. The man wasn't quite as tall as me, but solidly built with tattoos covering both his arms and most of his face, his skin the color of tree bark. He was dressed in a blue vest and white shorts, though he had no shoes on his calloused feet. He pointed an AK-47 at my chest, then saw the carnage around me and lowered it. He looked over both bodies, checking the bloody rope wound on Yellow Teeth's throat.

"Did you do this?" he asked in a strange accent, pointing at the pirate's corpse with his gun. I nodded, sure he was going to shoot me. Instead, he smiled. "Good job. One less of these damn pirates to deal with."

I was shocked. I killed a man, and this guy just walks out of the jungle like a freaking ghost, and says, "Good job." What the hell?

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I-it's Michael," I sputtered. "Michael Jasper's my name."

"Well, Michael, from your clothes, I'm guessing you're one of those American tourists. I take it these guys captured you?" I nodded. "Thought so. You should know that now that you've escaped, the pirates will be looking for you all over the island. They don't like their prizes escaping. But I've seen what you can do. Come with me; I can help you, teach you how to fight like a true Rakyat warrior. Here." He pulled a machete from his belt and cut the ropes keeping my hands together. Then he put the handle into my feeble grip. "Keep it. You're gonna need that."

"A warrior?" I asked in disbelief, looking over the weapon in my hands.

"Yes. It'll be difficult, but to survive here you'll have to be either a pirate or a Rakyat, and the pirate option's out. Besides, with my recommendation, the tribe should be a bit more accepting of you."

"A-alright, I guess," I managed to say. The man grinned.

"Perfect. Pick up that gun and follow me." He pointed at Yellow Teeth's pistol. I picked it off the ground and took the pirate's holster. I hooked it onto my belt and placed the gun inside, still holding the machete in my hand. The Rakyat nodded and motioned for me to follow. As I walked behind this strange man through the thick jungle, one question more than any other was on my mind.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

….

**And there's the first chapter. Okay, so I am accepting OC's, but it's not gonna be a huge amount. Probably around ten to fifteen. Here's the form (I'll use my OC's character): **

**Name (first and last): Michael Jasper**

**Gender: Male. **

**Age: 19**

**Height/Weight: 6'3, 200 pounds. **

**Personality: Scared at first, but slowly builds his confidence and takes on bigger challenges. He's not a hardened killer, and the act gets his morals screwed up. However, if it's necessary, he'll do it. **

**Clothing: Black shirt, jeans, combat boots, and a belt.**

**Appearance (Physical description): Tall, a little on the muscular side. Not very physically attractive. Missing part of his left ear from a gunshot wound. **

**Equipment (Weapons, gear, etc.): A machete and a 1911 pistol. **

**Skills (Go easy on this one): Driving, hand-to-hand combat. He's a decent shot, but he's not great. Can't shoot a bow to save his life. **

**How they came to Rook: Was on vacation with his best friend when he was captured by pirates. He escaped, and with the help of the Rakyat, he managed to survive. **

**I think that's it. I might not have very fast updates, since this is my third story in progress. Anyway, later!**


	2. To Become a Warrior

**Right, so at the time that I'm writing this A/N, there are no submissions yet. Ah well. Here's the next chapter. **

…**.**

"So, uh, who exactly _are_ the Rakyat?" I asked the man as we slowly made our way through the jungle. I had trouble keeping up with him, even though he was walking on the treacherous ground barefoot. My ear didn't help, since it was still burning like it was on fire. I was tired, but I doubted that showing weakness in front of this guy would make a good impression.

"We are the island dwellers," he replied unhelpfully, not looking back.

"And that means…?"

"It means that this is our home. The Rakyat have always been here, and we always will be."

"Okay," I said, still not understanding. "Do you mind if I ask your name?"

"It's Allan."

"Allan? That doesn't sound very… Er, islander-ish."

"I know," he said with a laugh. "My parents weren't very traditional."

"So, Allan, where are we going, exactly?"

"I had hoped to make it to the temple by nightfall," he began, looking out at the setting sun just above the trees. "But I think we'll have to camp here for tonight. The jungle is not a place you want to go exploring in the dark. Besides, there is something I need to show you."

He motioned for me to pass him the machete, and within minutes we had enough dry wood and kindling for a fire. He took a small, dark rock out of his pocket and scraped it against the metal, showering the pile with sparks. It ignited after a few more strikes, blazing into life. Allan looked at me and smiled.

"You see, the machete is a very versatile tool. It's not just for killing; there are many other ways it can be used. As with many things, it has two sides." Allan placed his rifle on the ground and removed his rucksack from his back.

I nodded. The fire was comforting. The warmth it provided wasn't needed with the excessive heat of the jungle, but I knew enough to realize that it would keep predators away. Ben had mentioned something about tigers lurking in the shadows, and they were the last thing I needed right now. "So what's this thing you wanted to show me?" I asked, fingering what was left of my ear. I couldn't hear much out of it, but fortunately I wasn't completely deaf. Allan took two rather scary-looking items out of his rucksack. One looked like a miniature steel gardening hoe, with menacing spikes on the end. The other was a metal rod about a foot long, with an end like a corkscrew. With these he retrieved a few other things, herbs I didn't recognize and a black liquid I assumed was ink.

"If you are to become a warrior of the Rakyat," Allan said as he organized his tools, "you will need the tatau. It is what gives us strength, lets us draw power from the center of the island."

"What?" I asked, hopelessly confused. The Rakyat gestured at the tattoos covering his body.

"This is one form of the tatau. There are three different animals involved, each specializing in one area of a warrior's skills. The heron, for long range attacks and quick movement. The shark, for aggressiveness and health. And finally, the spider, master of stealth and survival. All are important to a warrior's success."

"What?" I asked again numbly. This was too much for me. I didn't want to become a warrior- I just wanted to go home! "I-I don't know if I can go through with this, Allan," I said, unconsciously fingering my ear again.

"You must," he insisted. "Michael, you must listen to me if you are to survive. There is no alternative."

"I just want to go home!" I shouted.

"Do you?" Allan asked, his eyes staring deeply into mine. "I can see it in your eyes, Michael. You have the spirit of a warrior, though you may not realize it. And now that you are here, your true self will not allow you to leave. This is where you belong."

I was stunned by his words. My 'true self?' What the hell did that mean? I thought about the island, how I would leave it. But as I tried to imagine myself sailing away on a boat, I found that I simply could not do it. I can't really explain it, but it was like there was something pulling me here, tethering me to this island. But I hated this place. It had killed my best friend and nearly me as well and yet somehow… It was intriguing. There was a ferocity and brutality here that I had never seen before, and part of me, the most human part, was disgusted by it. But it was the other part that kept me here, the animalistic part. Killing Yellow Teeth had been easy and yet difficult. Easy to do, but difficult to deal with the regret. Part of me hated myself for killing him, even though it might have been justified, but the other part loved it, wanted more.

I tried to deny it, tried to eliminate that bloodthirsty urge, but I couldn't. Was this what it meant to be a warrior? If so, the thought scared me. Scared part of me. To the other half it was like a gift, like being set free after having been trapped for so long. I didn't want to fight, but I did want to fight. I wanted to fight, to win, to kill, and yet I didn't. One part wanted to leave, the other wanted to stay, and a third part wanted to point the gun at my head and pull the trigger.

It might've been better if I'd listened to that third part.

"You are troubled," Allan said. "Conflicted, trying to hold onto your old life, but you cannot. That life no longer exists. It was simply a stepping stone for you to reach this island and your destiny. Let me relieve this tension. I will give you the tatau, and you will no longer be held captive by what once was." I struggled with my thoughts, trying desperately to control my bloodlust, but I couldn't. The violent side won out, and I nodded my head slowly.

"You have made the right choice," Allan said, crushing several of the herbs into powder with the handle of the machete. He took this and put it into a wooden bowl with water from his canteen and placed it in my hands. "Drink. When you awake, you will be a warrior." I put the bowl to my lips and drank deeply. The bitter brew tasted terrible, but soon I began to fall asleep. I watched through closing eyelids as Allan dipped the end of one tool into his ink and put it to my arm.

As the sun set on the jungle that day, so too did it set on my old life.

….

**Wow, that was fun to write. This game has so much potential for insanity (not that it wasn't insane in the game). **

**This might be cheap of me, but I'm asking for reviews. This is getting a lot more views than any of my other stories, but it has the least reviews. **

…**I feel like an ass for saying that. I don't want to ask for reviews, but I just did. *Facepalm***

**Anyway, OC's are still being accepted. See you guys later!**


	3. Basic Training

**Alright, we've got our first submission. I figure now's a good time to say that if I think an OC is overpowered, I'll try to fix that. Fair warning. *Checks traffic* Holy crap, this is already my most-viewed fic! EPIC. Here's the next chapter. **

…**.**

When I finally woke up, my left arm felt like a lead pipe. It was heavy, and I couldn't move it at all. Looking down at it, I could see what Allan had been talking about. The tatau was a wavering black band around my forearm, just below the elbow. A tiny little strip of black, like a paper cut, was on my wrist. There was nothing else to it visually, but mentally I could already feel the change. I was becoming closer to the island. Taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs with sweet air for what felt like the first time.

I used my right hand to check my ear, which thankfully had stopped bleeding. I seemed fine otherwise, minus a few bruises and my chafed wrists. Allan was already up, polishing the barrel of his gun. He smiled when he saw me, and picked up the machete.

"Here," he said, throwing it with startling speed toward my face. Without thinking, I sidestepped, the knife thudding as it hit the tree behind me. My mouth gaped in shock. My reflexes were insane, easily ten times better than before. Allan grinned. "The tatau has already begun to take effect. You have only just started along the path, and you are already far stronger than you were."

"How did I do that?" I asked. "If you'd thrown that thing at me yesterday, I would've been dead."

"The tatau draws power from the island. It reveals what you can truly do, without the obstacle of restraint."

"I don't get it."

Allan sighed and sat down on the jungle floor. "Maybe it'll help if I explain this in American terms. Some people say that we as humans use only about a third of our physical abilities, so that there is less of a risk of hurting ourselves. With me so far?" I nodded. "Well, the tatau acts like both a key and a shield. It acts as a key to unlock the part of our mind that holds our full physical ability, while shielding us from the aftereffects of using such strength. Get it?"

"I guess."

"Good. Now, as you can see, the tatau is simple at the moment. As you progress along the Path of the Warrior, it will grow, allowing you to use more of your abilities."

"Like a more effective key."

"Exactly. Now, it is time for training."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to teach you how to fight. Pick up your machete." I turned and yanked the blade out of the tree it was embedded in, the knife ringing a little as it came loose.

Turning back to Allan, I asked, "Now what?"

"First things first. Attack me with everything you've got."

"Are you kidding me?! This thing could kill you!"

"I'll be fine," he said with a laugh. "Go on, hit me." I tightened my grip on the machete, still skeptical. I swung the blade half-heartedly, an easy attack to dodge. To my surprise, Allan grabbed my wrist, pulling the blade past his head, and then brought his arm down hard on my elbow. Crying out in pain, I dropped my knife and stepped back. The limb throbbed, and now I could feel nothing in either arm.

Allan shook his head. "That was pathetic!" he scolded. "A child could have dodged that! If you're going to be a Rakyat, you can't hold anything back."

I said nothing, just picked up the knife and got into a ready position. The warrior smirked. "Good, you're ready for another go. This time, really try to kill me like I was one of those pirates." I nodded and swung an overhead attack at him using both hands, sure that he'd jump back. Instead he stepped forward, gripping my forearm and stopping the slash right there. After a brief power struggle, he raised the knife a little higher and then drove his knee into my gut. I dropped with a groan.

"That was a little better," he conceded. "But remember, it's a knife, not a sword. You don't have the reach to do any fancy moves. A quick stabbing attack is much more suitable, or a slash across the throat. Don't use both hands; keep one free to create an opening. Here, give me the machete." I tossed it to him and he caught it easily. Then he settled into a stance with his left foot forward and right foot back, his feet forming an "L" shape. His left arm was held in front loosely, his right holding the machete. "This is a good stance. You use the left side to try to grab your opponent's arm or create an opening, and then you counterattack with the right. Here, I'll show you."

After a few more lessons and rounds of sparring, Allan seemed to think I was good enough. "You're no master," he said, "but you're good enough to take a pirate. That'll have to do for now." I smiled. My body was bruised badly, but I couldn't deny that it was kind of fun. Everything just seemed to click right into place, and I could recall everything that I'd learned, from counterattacks to takedowns. I felt… powerful. My arms were both fine now, although the left tingled a bit. Looking down at it, I could see the thick line of the tatau starting to move, slithering like a snake.

"Uh, Allan, is this supposed to be happening?" I asked, holding my arm out. Allan grinned.

"Great timing. Michael, this means that you are ready to take another step along the Path." He pointed to three small hemispheres in the line. "These three are the basis of all your other skills. We have been training for hours now, and what you have learned was enough to give you a new ability. I will teach you the takedown." He placed his index finger on the rightmost hemisphere. "Repeat after me." He spoke in an odd language, unlike any I'd heard before. I repeated what he'd said, struggling to pronounce the words. When I finished, the tatau moved again. Inside the hemisphere, a small swirl of ink glowed bright gold. The mark burned, but I held back a cry of pain. In another moment the burning stopped and the mark faded to deep black like the line it had come from.

"What the hell?" I asked in awe, admiring the new mark.

"That is the mark of the shark," Allan said, his grin widening. "You have learned enough to choose another. Shark, heron, or spider; it is up to you. The left is the heron, the middle is the spider. When you are ready, place your finger on the line and speak the words you just did."

It was more like the tatau made the decision for me. Immediately I pointed to the middle hemisphere and spoke again. The words came easier this time, the burning less intense as the mark appeared. With this new tatau came a sense of power, and I smiled. Allan nodded. "The spider," he said. "A fine choice." He looked around the jungle and checked the sun, still burning high in the sky. "If we hurry, we can probably get to the temple tonight. We'll train further there." I nodded, and Allan picked up his gun. "Let's be gone, then." I followed him further into the jungle, still smiling from excitement.

….

**Alright, another short chapter. Oh well. Anyway, figured I'd say a couple things regarding OC's. Like I said earlier, I'll try to make them as non-Mary Sue as I can. If you don't know what a Mary Sue is, it's basically an incredibly overpowered, perfect character. Like, a hardened killer who's extremely intelligent, strong, attractive, basically unkillable, and does everything perfectly. Also, a character can be Sue-ish if they use weapons that aren't possible in the universe that the character exists in (Like a sword in a universe where guns are dominant) or their equipment is made of stuff like shark/dragon/whatever bones and such. Hell, the name can even be an issue. I mean seriously, there are OC's who have names like, "Shadow" or a nickname like, "Death-dealer." Ugh. **

**Okay, rant over. I'd really appreciate reviews. If you liked it, great! If you didn't, leave a review telling me why. I mean, if there's a problem I didn't see, I'd like to know about it. Also, OC's will start being introduced next chapter. Later!**


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